


ever since I left the city

by ohmcgee



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Casual Sex, Friends With Benefits, M/M, dumb boys, slutbomb Tim Drake
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-09-13 07:16:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9112342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmcgee/pseuds/ohmcgee
Summary: (573):his pick up line was "wanna get a pizza and fuck?"(314):did it work(573):that's not the point...





	

“Here’s the thing,” Jason starts. He’s pacing across the roof and it’s kind of adorable and terrifying all at once; Tim honestly doesn’t know if he’s going to start pulling out his hair or pull out his gun. “And I know you know this because you know _everything_ and I really, really fucking hate that about you, by the way.”

“Noted,” Tim says, rocking back on his heels. “Did you have a point?”

“Right,” Jason continues. “You know everything about me, probably know what I fucking ate for dinner last night --”

“I didn’t know you could cook --”

“You’re not making this any easier,” Jason grits out and Tim just _grins._ “What I’m saying is, I don’t date. You know I don’t date. I don’t have the fuckin’ time for it or the patience, or, well, the social skills, to be honest. That last thing was like --

“A disaster?” Tim finishes for him and well, Jason can’t actually argue with that. Tim nods. “Our jobs don’t exactly allow for normal relationships.”

“And we’ve obviously got this --” Jason says and waves his hand between them. “-- thing.”

Tim just looks at him. Jason takes that as agreement.. 

”So,” He says, running his fingers through his hair. “Do you just -- wanna grab a pizza and fuck?”

Tim shrugs and puts his staff away. “I could eat.”

 

***

 

It was an awful pick-up line. Maybe the worst pick-up line Jason’s ever used, not that he has a whole lot of experience, but whatever, it worked.

They go down the street after changing into street clothes to Gino’s and order two separate pizzas because Jason hates olives so much he doesn’t even want them _touching_ the same pizza he’s eating, and apparently that’s about the only thing Tim wants on his. 

They don’t have to flirt or make small talk. Jason doesn’t have to worry the whole time if he’s said something wrong or said too much or if the scars on his arms are showing when he reaches across to get a napkin. He doesn’t have to rub Tim’s hand across the table or stare into his eyes to let him know he’s interested. After they eat they just go back to Jason’s place and Jason presses Tim back against the door, fucks his tongue into Tim’s mouth and when he feels Tim’s dick digging into his hip, everything just sort of progresses naturally from there. 

It might be completely fucked up and backwards, but it’s probably the best date Jason’s ever been on. 

 

***

 

Jason waits for the eventual fall-out, for the awkwardness the next time they see each other, waits for Tim to start acting weird and to find excuses to not have to work with him, but oddly, it doesn’t come. They patrol and they fight and Tim bitches at him for throwing his punches too hard and how stupid his helmet looks and it’s pretty much the same shit as usual. 

He goes off with Roy when they finally get a job sent their way and when he comes back a few weeks later there is, predictably, a disaster happening in Gotham that requires his very special skillset. Roy helps them take down the bad guys then fucks off to wherever Roy goes when he’s not busy driving Jason crazy and leaves Jason standing around with Tim after Damian and Bruce have already headed back to the cave to tend to their injuries. 

“How was Lebanon?” Tim asks and Jason glares, gears up for another heated debate of _stay out of my fucking business_ , but the exhaustion is starting to hit him, so he retracts his claws and decides to save it for another day.

“Awesome,” he says dryly. “Saved the princess from the castle and everything.”

“Am I correct in assuming Harper was the princess?” Tim asks, corner of his mouth quirking up just a touch.

“Well,” Jason says, patting his vest down to see if his pack of smokes survived the fray. “He does have the hair for it.”

Tim laughs a little, flips one of his escrima sticks over as Jason checks his pants pockets, the sun starting to bleed into the horizon. “So, what next?”

“Honestly,” Jason says, frowning when he finally finds the pack he was looking for, with one broken cigarette left in it. “After that all I want is a cigarette and a blow job.”

Tim snorts, but then he slides his escrima stick back into the spot on his belt and says, “Okay.”

Jason lifts his eyebrows at him. “Seriously?”

Tim shrugs. “I don’t have anywhere to be.”

Half an hour later Tim’s pushing him down on the couch in his safehouse and kneeling on the floor in front of him, opening Jason’s jeans up and swallowing him down so deep Jason’s eyes roll back into his head. 

“Christ,” Jason groans and throws his head back, stares up at the water stain on the ceiling as Tim hollows his cheeks and relaxes his throat so he can take him down even farther. “Where’d you get so good at that?”

Tim pulls off with a wet, sucking noise that kind of drives Jason crazy, licks his lips that are already so obscene looking Jason can barely stand to look at them. “I’m good at everything.”

“You’re such a cocky little --” Jason groans when Tim swallows him back down, buries his hands in Tim’s hair and fucks his mouth until Tim gets his hands around his balls and squeezes and Jason comes so hard Tim chokes a little from the force of it, punching Jason in the thigh as he coughs. 

Jason returns the favor with his jeans still around his ankles, just grabs Tim's hips after Tim stands up and yanks his tights down, fucks his face on him until his jaw is sore, until Tim lets out a loud, sudden moan and comes down his throat, three red stripes on each hip from Jason gripping him so tight. 

“Christ,” Jason breathes out and leans back against the couch, ignoring the fact that his dick is already half hard again just from the noises Tim had been making, and drags his hand over his mouth. “You want a beer?”

“We've been over this, Jason,” Tim says, smirking as he pulls his tights back up. “I'm not old enough to drink.”

Jason's still laughing at him long after he's climbed out the window. 

 

: : :

 

So once turns into twice turns into...Jason’s lost count, actually. 

After the third time (Tim betting Jason he couldn’t go a week without shooting someone, the prize being a blowjob) they lost all pretense of it being just a random thing that happens between them and just started texting each other when they wanted to hook up. 

They’re not always in the city at the same time, so when Jason gets back to Gotham after finishing up a freelance gig with Roy in Bialya, after grabbing a shower and a bite to eat, he shoots Tim a text to see where he’s at. 

It’s only been a couple of weeks, but by the time Tim gets there Jason is dying to get his hands on him. He shoves his hands up Tim’s hoodie and bites at his mouth when he kisses him and in the middle of Tim pulling his shirt off and wrapping his legs around him Jason realizes he doesn’t even notice the taste of the cherry chapstick Tim always wears or the strong smell of coffee that clings to him anymore; it’s just something he’s come to accept now, maybe even something he’s _missed._

Jason squeezes Tim’s ass in his hands when Tim’s nails dig into his shoulder and grinds their dicks together, drawing a sharp gasp from Tim’s lips, so he does it again -- and again. His grip on Tim’s thighs is so tight Jason imagines he’ll have pretty bruises there to show for it tomorrow, but at least it’ll match the marks Tim’s nails are leaving on his back as Jason grinds against him. 

He knows they could be doing more, but this is good too. Tim’s legs wrapped around him, Tim’s mouth dragging hot and wet all over his neck, sucking and biting at his throat as Jason squeezes and digs his fingers into his tight little ass. He doesn’t even realize how bad he wants it until Tim nips at his ear and says _fuck me._

An hour later Jason’s lying naked on top of his sheets, lighting a cigarette as he watches Tim crawl out his window and he wonders, not for the first time, if he even knows what the fuck he’s doing. 

 

: : : 

 

They don’t even really like each other is the hilarious part. But Jason supposes it’s not all that fucked up. He pretty much knows firsthand that sexual attraction usually has fuck all to do with how _you_ feel about a person and more to do with how your dick feels about said person. And no matter how many times he’s tried to deny it, being around Tim definitely gives his dick feelings.

At first he thought he could just blame it on rage and adrenaline, the way a fight always got him hard -- and he and Tim were _always_ fighting. But then he started noticing more than just Tim’s annoying, holier-than-thou attitude and how good he could take a punch. Things like the shape of his mouth and how plush his lips were, like his tight little ass in those goddamn spandex tights and how infuriatingly, annoyingly brilliant he is.

It has been awhile since Jason’s blamed Tim for every shitty thing that happened in his life, but he’s still not sure if he really _likes_ the kid. He’s twitchy and too-quiet in that serial killer kind of way and too smart for anyone’s damn good, and he definitely knows Tim doesn’t like _him_ \-- a side effect of being at the pointy end of Jason’s blade too many times. So whatever they’re doing, it’s clearly just sex. Which Jason is more than okay with, because it’s not just sex. It’s fucking _amazing_ sex and there isn’t a damn thing wrong with that.

“Hey,” Tim picks up on the fourth ring when Jason calls him Saturday night, bored and itching to get his hands on something pretty. Wherever Tim is it sounds loud, like somewhere where there’s a lot of people. Jason thinks he hears Beyonce in the background. “Something up?”

“Nah,” Jason says. “Just wondering if you wanted to -- hang out. Or whatever.”

“Sorry,” Tim says as a girl’s laughter nearly drowns his voice out. “I’m kinda --”

“No problem,” Jason says and hangs up the phone before Tim can explain, then grabs his jacket and guns on the way out the door. 

There’s always something happening in Gotham. If it gets a little bloody, then that’ll just be a bonus.

 

: : :

 

“Harder,” Tim pants later that night, right as the sun’s about to come up. The something bloody Jason stumbled upon a few hours after leaving the house turned into a huge throwdown busting up a meth lab in the Narrows and even though he _totally_ had it, Tim must have gotten wind of it somehow because he showed up right as Jason was about to get his ass handed to him. 

Right now Jason’s got Tim bent over the back of the couch fucking him so hard they’re both covered in sweat. Tim’s hips are so slick Jason keeps having to readjust his grip to keep hold of him as he pounds into him. “ _Harder_ ,” Tim grits out and reaches back, catches Jason’s hips with his nails and scrapes off some of the skin.

Jason’s already fucking him so hard there’s sweat in his eyes and his hair is plastered to the side of his face, so he’s not sure that’s even possible, but he changes his grip and squeezes Tim’s hips so tight he feels like he’s crushing the bones there, lifts Tim up onto his heels and changes the angle, fucks into him so hard the feet on the bottom of the couch scrape across the hardwood floor from the force it.

“Fuck Jason, _yes_ ,” Tim groans and Jason _feels_ it when he comes, squeezes his eyes shut when Tim’s muscles tighten around him like a vice and then _he’s_ coming, just burying himself all the way inside of Tim and leaning down to bite the back of Tim’s neck as his dick pulses inside of him, leaving a matching bruise next to the one whoever left their earlier.

After a minute or two of catching his breath Jason pulls out, gets rid of the condom as Tim pulls his suit back up. 

“Thanks,” Tim says and takes something out of his belt to straighten his domino. All the sweating had made it start to slip down on one side. “That was fun.”

“Uh huh,” Jason snorts, flopping onto the couch after he gets his jeans most of the way back on. “Anytime.”

 

: : : 

 

On Tuesday, Jason wakes up to a text from Tim at noon asking him if he’s awake. Jason wipes the drool off his face and sends him the middle finger emoji as a response, and half an hour later Tim shows up at his door with a to go bag from the Italian restaurant downtown -- the one with the fried ravioli that Jason would kill a man over.

“Conner was supposed to have lunch with me, but something came up,” He says as he backs Jason against the counter and drags his fingers across his stomach, right above the waistband of his boxers, and licks his lips. “Hungry?”

“You don’t think this,” Jason bites his lip when he pushes inside of Tim moments later, Tim’s clothes strewn all the way from the kitchen to his bedroom. “is a little weird?”

“What?” Tim asks and hooks his ankles around Jason’s back, digging them in and forcing Jason in deeper. 

“ _This_ ,” Jason says and takes Tim’s legs, hooks them over his shoulders instead, lifts Tim’s ass and drives into him, forcing a ridiculously hot, _loud_ noise out of Tim’s mouth, completely shameless and pornographic.

“Oh,” Tim smirks and squeezes around him. “This.”

After he comes -- _god Tim, fucking take it_ \-- Jason rolls over and sprawls out, takes a distinct pleasure in the heavy, ragged breaths Tim’s still taking, the mess he made all over his belly when Jason fucked him so deep he came without ever touching his dick. 

“It’s not weird,” Tim says finally, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, pulling on his boxers, then searching the room for his slacks. This time he came straight from some meeting at W.E. and Jason nearly smashed his glasses his kissed him so hard. “It’s just sex, Jason.”

“Right,” Jason says. “No strings, just orgasms. That actually work?”

“I dunno,” Tim says, looking over his shoulder at Jason as he buttons up his shirt. “You seemed to enjoy the _two_ orgasms you had.”

“Hey,” Jason says, folds his arms behind his head as Tim tugs the sheets off of him looking for his tie, glancing appreciatively at Jason’s dick. “You cheated.”

“Blowjobs are cheating?” Tim grins as he loops his tie back around his neck. 

“With that mouth?” Jason stretches shamelessly. “Absolutely.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Tim says and bends down to slip his feet into his shoes, staring at a wound on the inside of Jason’s thigh. “That looks pretty nasty.”

“Well maybe you shouldn’t bite so hard,” Jason says, showing teeth. 

Tim just rolls his eyes as he pulls his jacket on. “Don’t be an idiot, Jason.” he says. “Put something on it.”

“Sure, Florence,” Jason says as he watches Tim bend over to slip on his shoes. His ass is small like the rest of him, but it fits perfectly in Jason’s hands like, it was made for it. “You gonna stay and eat?”

Tim checks his watch in between buttoning his shirt. “Can’t,” he says. “I have to get back. Help yourself though. There’s salad and eggplant parm and some of those fried ravioli appetizers you like.” 

“Sweet,” Jason says, wrapping the sheets around his waist when he turns over to grab his smokes off the nightstand. When he rolls back over Tim’s already gone, the only sign of him ever being there the lingering scent of sex in the air and the bruises from his mouth all over Jason’s chest. 

Jason gives up when he can’t find his lighter, pulls on a pair of shorts and wanders back into the kitchen, digs out the box with the fried ravioli in it and while he’s heating up the marinara sauce he hears his phone going off in his room, that stupid Taylor Swift song Roy programmed in that he can’t figure out how to change. 

“You got us a job?” He asks, surveying his reflection in the mirror as he holds the phone to his ear. 

“Well,” Roy says. “It’s not so much a _job_ as a job generally entails payment of some kind, but we do get to --”

“Sounds good,” Jason says. pushing his thumb into a bruise on his collarbone. “I’ll be there in an hour.”

 

: : :

 

The job Roy lined up for them is more like a pro-bono thing they end up doing in Columbia, freeing a bunch of kids from the clutches of an evil cartel, but after that they get contacted by someone else and get sent to Amsterdam to figure out why a bunch of tourists are getting turned into old people overnight.

Roy asks him about Tim in the middle of fighting a bunch of sword wielding cult members because Roy is a devious motherfucker if anything and knows that it’s the only time Jason won’t be able to dodge him. 

“I’m just sayin,” Roy says, back to back with him as they fight. “I saw him the other day getting real friendly with some girl outside the coffee shop downtown. I thought you two were --”

“It’s not like that,” Jason grits out as he just manages to stop a sword two inches from his face. “It’s just ---”

“Sex?” Roy asks, reaching over Jay’s shoulder to stab the guy trying to attack him in the neck with an arrow. Luckily that was the last of them, Jason thinks. “Didn’t think you were down with that whole casual thing.”

“I’m -- ” Jason starts, raising his gun and shooting the ninja the tries to sneak up on them in the knee.. “-- fine.”

“Uh huh,” Roy says skeptically and leans over to pick his bow up off the ground, but he lets it go for now, because thankfully, Roy’s also his best friend and knows when to fucking _leave it._ “C’mon.” He says, throwing his arm around Jason’s shoulders. “Let’s go be the good guys.”

They’re gone for about three weeks and when Jason gets back to Gotham his place is dark and empty and there’s barely anything in the fridge to eat that isn’t moldy. He tries to sleep but he’s too wound up, so he shoots Tim a text. Ever since they got on the plane Jason hasn’t been able to stop thinking about getting his hands on him, about that fucking mouth of his, maybe getting Tim to ride him this time, but he doesn’t get a reply immediately back. Jason figures Tims probably just patrolling or busy with a case, or maybe he’s just found somebody else to keep him warm, maybe even someone he actually likes.

Instead of waiting around or tossing and turning all night Jason takes a shower and changes clothes, leaves the apartment with the intent on getting some groceries and coming back, but instead ends up in some dive bar, breaking up fights and starting a few of his own in between doing enough shots to put a rhino down, crashes on his own couch sometime after two and wakes up with the worst hangover he’s had in years. Which, obviously, is the absolute best time for Damian of all people to crawl through his window and demand he patrol with him later that night. 

After he showers and chugs down a Red Bull Jason heads to the manor to tear Bruce a new one for sending his demon spawn to summon him and he literally runs into Tim on his wave down to the cave. Tim just stops and looks up at him with this weird look on his face.

“You’re back?”

“Apparently,” Jason says, eyebrows inching their way up his forehead. “You mind? I’m kind of on a mission here.”

“Yeah sure,” Tim says, stepping out of the way. “Have at it.”

Jason finds Bruce down in the cave as planned and he and Bruce scream at each other until Alfred threatens to get the photo album out and _reminisce_ and they each retreat to their own corners, knowing when they’ve been beat.

When Jason goes back upstairs Tim’s already gone, but later that night they end up back to back, surrounded by some wanna-be gang thugs trying to claim territory or something equally lame. They’ve got a good rhythm going on, but when Tim says, “I’m coming over tonight,” after he cracks one of the guys in the kneecap with his staff, it throws Jason off for just a _second_ , but a second is apparently long enough to get your arm sliced open.

“Idiot,” Tim says, shaking his head. 

Jason almost doesn’t argue with him.

 

: : :

 

Tim shows up about an hour after Jason gets home. He’s showered, the tips of his hair still damp and sticking up, and Jason opens his mouth to make a snide comment about his stupid sweater when Tim grabs him and slams him against the wall, covering Jason’s mouth with his and fucking his tongue down his throat.

“Could’ve said you were back,” Tim mutters against his throat, pushes Jason’s shirt up and sucks kisses into his chest, then gets down on his knees in front of him and tears Jason’s jeans apart, tugging them down impatiently and wrapping his mouth around him.

“Oh _fuck_ ,” Jason groans when Tim swallows him down, pushing Tim’s hair out of his eyes so he can look at him. “Christ, I missed your mouth.”

It’s maybe a little more earnest than Jason meant to say, but he can hardly think straight with the wet, velvet heat of Tim’s mouth wrapped around him. It’s just -- there’s really nothing like it. He thinks maybe there was truth in Tim’s statement that he’s good at everything because Jason’s had blowjob before -- lots of them -- and none of them were like this. None of them ever made him want to lose his goddamn mind and say shit that he shouldn’t even be thinking, much less blurting out loud. 

“God, Tim,” he groans, looking down at the way Tim’s mouth just stretches around him so _perfectly._ “So good.”

Tim moans at the praise and digs his fingers into Jason’s thighs, relaxes his throat and takes Jason deeper, gagging a little but not enough to make him pull off. 

“Oh fuck, _please_ ,” Jason chokes out and as soon as Tim looks up at him he comes, pulling out just enough that his come spills across Tim’s mouth. “Oh jesus fuck, c’mere.” 

Jason hauls Tim up off the floor and grabs his face between his hands, licking his come off of Tim’s lips and chin sucking the taste of himself off of Tim’s tongue. He works Tim’s jeans open and shoves them down his hips, kneads his fingers into Tim’s ass and drags him up against him, feeling the hot, hard press of Tim’s dick against his hip, grinning when Tim moans into his shoulder. 

“Yeah, baby, like that,” Jason says next to Tim’s ear as Tim ruts against him, breathing into Jason’s neck as Jason bites at his jaw. “Come on. Come _on._ ”

“Jay,” Tim grunts out as his hips stutter and Jason feels him come, feels it in the shaking and quivering of his legs, feels it warm and wet, splattering all over his stomach as Tim ruts against him until he’s spent.

Tim leans against him until he catches his breath, then slowly peels himself off of Jason and grabs a couple of towels from the kitchen to clean up with. 

“You want pizza?” Jason asks after he gets cleaned up, his stomach rumbling at him. It occurs to him after he says it that Tim usually doesn’t hang around afterward, but there’s no taking it back now.

“Mm,” is all Tim says, so Jason pads in the kitchen and orders a couple of pizzas, one with olives and one without, then pulls at least a pair of pants on so he doesn’t give the pizza delivery person a free show when they show up. Tim, clearly, doesn’t have this kind of foresight because he walks in the room behind Jason just as the delivery girl is handing Jason the boxes, still only wearing his little black boxers briefs, scratching the back of his head. 

They eat on the couch, Tim with his feet pulled up underneath him as he flips through the local channels to make sure Gotham hasn’t been overrun by zombies or anything in the last hour. 

“You’re kinda paranoid, you know that?” Jason asks and Tim mostly ignores him, flips through a couple of more channels. 

“Seriously,” Jason says, snatching the remote away from him. “You can’t be constantly on the clock. You’ll go as batfuck crazy as Bruce.”

Tim narrows his eyes at him, glances at the bandage on his arm. “You should’ve had that stitched up,” he says. “Alfred --”

“I don’t need fucking stitches, jesus,” Jason snaps. “I know how to take care of myself, alright? I was doing it long before Bruce took me in and had to do it long after he stopped giving a shit.”

“Jason --”

“Christ” Jason says, exasperated. “I didn’t mean that. I -- just fuckin’ drop it, okay? Some junkie caught me with a knife. It’s not going to kill me. Don’t you have better shit to worry about?”

“I’m not worried,” Tim says, biting off another piece of pizza. 

Of course he’s not, Jason thinks, feeling suddenly stupid for even assuming that’s what he’d be referring to. Tim’s not worried about _him_ , he’s worried about his effectiveness in the field, if him being hurt is going to get other people hurt. He probably wouldn’t care if Jason’s arm fell clean off as long as it didn’t affect the _mission._ God, he’s so much like Bruce. No wonder they hardly get along. Except for when their dicks are involved, apparently.

“Listen,” Jason says, standing up. “I’m going to shower then I’m gonna go pass out for at least six hours.”

“Okay,” Tim says, which Jason isn’t sure if it means _okay, I’ll get my shit and go_ or _okay I’m gonna pass out on your couch_ , but either way when Tim slips in the shower behind him a few minutes later, it’s definitely unexpected. 

“Hi,” Jason says lamely.

Tim just gives him this crooked little grin and says, “Hi,” back, pushing Jason under the stream of water and kissing him. Jason doesn’t actually remember them ever kissing before when his dick wasn’t inside of Tim, so it’s a little weird. Not _bad_ , just another one of those curveballs Tim likes to throw him, so Jason throws him one of his own in return, gets down on his knees, the hot water spraying down on his back, and eats Tim out until he screams. 

That night Tim doesn’t climb out his window. That night, after they get out of the shower and dry off, after Tim rides him until they’re both filthy and sweaty and need another shower, Tim passes out, arm draped across Jason’s waist and drooling a little on his chest.  
He’s even there in the morning when Jason wakes up the next morning, sprawled out like a starfish on the bed and nearly shoving Jason off the edge. Jason can’t sleep any longer so he gets up and grabs a shower, then heads into the kitchen to make breakfast. He remembers Tim likes waffles so he mixes up some batter and puts some bacon on to go with it, then starts up the coffee pot. 

Tim stumbles in the living room a little while later wearing a pair of Jason’s sweats he had to roll up four or five times because he couldn’t find his, apparently, hair sticking up every which way. Jason’s in the middle of buttering a waffle when he realizes he’s never actually seen Tim like this before, softened by sleep and totally unguarded, nothing about him put together. This, he realizes, is the Tim beneath all the other layers and personas he’s had to put on for so many years. There’s a cluster of freckles between his shoulder blades, a cowlick that just won’t stay down, and Jason wants to kiss him so much he can’t breath. 

“Morning,” he says instead and finishes buttering a waffle while Tim pours a cup of coffee and sits down at the small table in the kitchen, pulling his legs up under him. 

“Thanks,” Tim says when Jason brings the waffles over to the table, grabbing one off the top of eating it with his hands. “These are good.”

Jason dumps some sugar into his coffee and smirks. “You always this monosyllabic in the mornings?”

Tim flips him off in response. 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Jason laughs. 

They get through the meal mostly in silence since Tim is apparently even worse at mornings than Bruce ever was, then Tim gets up and finds his pants behind the couch in the living room and gets dressed. Before he leaves he walks up to Jason and kisses him on the mouth, slow and soft and long, the kind of kiss that lingers on your mouth for hours. 

“See you soon,” Tim murmurs across his lips before he turns and walks out the door. 

 

: ::

 

Jason doesn’t see him again for two months. He tries calling the day after Tim stays the night, but Tim says he’s busy. He calls again the day after, but it just goes to voicemail. He sends a couple of more texts randomly and by week three Jason takes the fucking hint. 

It’s the undercover job he pulls at one of Gotham’s ritziest clubs one night that really drives it home. He’s working as a bartender when he spots Tim out on the floor with some blonde guy, fucks up about three drinks as he watches the guy puts his hands all over Tim while they dance. When they start making out Jason takes his break and goes out back, chain-smoking while he runs his fingers through hair, muttering _fucking stupid_ in between drags. 

He doesn’t call or text Tim again after that and Jason doesn’t get anything from him either. He stays busy with Roy, preferable out of the country or off-world, anywhere besides fucking Gotham. Then one night, in between jobs, Jason’s sitting at home cleaning his guns when his phone rings, Tim’s picture flashing on the screen. 

Jason looks at it, hits decline, and goes back to what he was doing. 

Tim calls back again, and again, and by third time Jason figures it must be a life or death thing if he’s being this persistent, so he answers the phone.

“Yeah?” he says after hitting the green _answer_ button, then starts to take another gun apart.

“Jason,” Tim says. There’s a lot of music in the background and he sounds like he’s slurring a little. “You answered. I -- I didn’t think you were going to answer.”

“Jesus christ,” Jason mutters. “Are you drunk?”

“No,” Tim says. “You know I’m not...old enough. For that.”

“Right,” Jason says. “If the world’s not ending I’m hanging up.”

“No,” Tim says and he must have went somewhere quieter because Jason stops hearing the club music. “No, don’t. I -- I think I have to tell you something.” 

“You really don’t.”

“Yeah,” Tim insist. “Jay. I...do you want to have sex?”

Jason grinds his teeth. “I’m hanging up now.”

“I miss you,” Tim blurts out before Jason can pull the phone away from his ear. “I mean. I miss fucking you. Don’t -- don’t you? You just. You feel so good in me, Jay.”

“Jesus,” Jason mutters, his dick already reacting to Tim’s voice like it’s conditioned.

“I can suck you too,” Tim says. “I remember you like my mouth.”

Jason sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Tim,” he says. “Where are you?”

Jason has no intentions of following up on tim’s offer, but if he’s drunk enough to be calling Jason talking about shit like that, then he’s obviously wasted. He puts the address of the club Tim gives him into his phone and fifteen minutes later he pulls up to the curb where Tim’s waiting.

Tim climbs on the back of his bike and wraps his arms around Jason and Jason peels off.

When they get to Tim’s place Jason walks him inside because he’s honestly not sure Tim could even figure out how to get his key in the lock right now, and when he turns to leave once Tim’s inside, Tim grabs him by the arm and tries to kiss him. 

“No,” Jason says, pushing him away. “Not doing that. You’re going to bed. I’m leaving.”

“But,” Tim says, grabbing at Jason’s arms. “I thought you wanted me.”

Jason sighs and stares at him. “Tim.”

“I know what I -- I messed up. Yeah. I thought. I thought that’s all you wanted. I thought that’s all -- but then. Then you were you and I should have known it wouldn’t…”

“Tim?”

 

“I think. I think I’m going to vomit.”

“Right,” Jason says, pointing him in the direction of the bathroom. “Of course.”

He brings Tim a glass of ice water as soon as he gets done puking, then scoops him off the bathroom floor and drops him in his bed, peeling his shirt and pants off of him. 

“Jason?”

“Yeah,” Jason says as he pulls the covers on top of him. 

“Do you hate me?”

Jason sighs. “No, Tim. I don’t hate you. Now go to sleep.”

Tim catches his wrist before he can pull away, looks up at him and says, “Don't go.”

“Yeah, I don't think I'm going to do that.”

Tim frowns at him, but he's too out of to argue, so he just nods. 

Jason waits until he passes out to leave.

 

: : : 

 

The next time Jason sees Tim is a week later working a job on the docks. They're chasing a coke peddling scumbug in circles and when Tim loses his footing and ends up in the harbor Jason just looks down at him and shakes his head as he shoots the dirtbag in the foot. 

They find the nearest roof to squat on as soon as they hear the sirens and Jason lights up a smoke. 

“Can we talk?” Tim as asks the cops show up to take credit for the arrest. 

“I've got a headache,” Jason says dryly. Not his finest moment but maybe it’ll help Tim get the picture. 

Tim gives him a pitiful look. “I just mean talk. I swear.”

Jason sighs, exhaling a cloud of smoke. “You've got until this cigarette is gone. Talk.”

“Okay,” Tim says. He paces a couple of times in front of Jason then stops, takes the cigarette out of his mouth, and kisses him. “Ugh, you taste like an ashtray.”

“Yeah, well --”

“But I still want to kiss you. It’s almost as weird as sleeping with you and still wanting to see you again.”

“You’re doing that thing again,” Jason says. “The not making sense.”

“Duh,” Tim says with a little wave of his hand. “I have commitment issues. A surprise to everyone, I’m sure.”

“Uh huh,” Jason says. At some point his hands found their way onto Tim’s hips. “So what are you talking to me for then?”

“You were an accident,” Tim says, wetting his mouth. “We were just supposed to fuck once, but I kept wanting more. And it scared me.”

“You’ve taken on Killer Croc.” Jason points out. “That guy eats people.”

“Yeah, but he didn’t want to be my boyfriend,” Tim says.

Jason arches an eyebrow. “Is that what you think I want?”

Tim raises both of his and Jason just tightens his hold on Tim’s hips, jerks him forward until he’s so close he could kiss him if he wanted. 

“Okay, fine. I don’t like sharing,” Jason growls out. “Sue me.”

“How about I date you,” Tim replies, nipping at his bottom lip, and Jason just growls and lifts Tim up, wrapping his legs around him. 

“Yeah maybe,” he says, grinning. “I could go for some pizza."


End file.
